


In Hospitality and Love

by temporalDecay



Series: Tumblr Porn Prompt Fics [7]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Come Inflation, Dream Bubbles, F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalDecay/pseuds/temporalDecay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat ends up in his Ancestor's dreambubble. He's kinda okay with that, all things considered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Hospitality and Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saeto15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saeto15/gifts).



> IT WAS MEANT TO BE A SHORT PWP ONE-SHOT. But alright, if I can't have it all, at least it can _stay_ a one-shot, since it's neither short nor exactly PWP.
> 
> ...oh sweet merciful god, please let it stay a one-shot.

“I never got a chance to have sex,” Karkat mutters, and the absurdity of the statement makes you crack a laugh. 

“ _That_ ’s your biggest regret?” You tease a little, sitting on the shore of the lake and watching him bounce rocks off the surface of the water. 

“Not my _biggest_ regret,” he says a little defensively, looking at you over the corner of his eye – you suppose, though his eyes are white now, so you’re just assuming from his body language. You were always really good at reading body language, though. “It just… occurred to me now.” He turns back to the lake and scoops up another rock to throw. You corrected his form and showed him how to do it properly, before you sat down where you are. He didn’t thank you and you didn’t expect him to, but it’s amusing to see him doing it now. Skipping stones always made you feel better about things, when you were alive. “That I’m dead,” he goes on, watching the rock bounce off the surface of the water as it goes, “like… that’s it. I’m done. All the shit I ever wanted to do, and I’m never going to do it now.” 

“Technically you can,” you smile a little wanly, not quite sure how to take that statement from him, considering he doesn’t sound upset. Not exactly. “I mean, you do have all the time in the world left here, and no one can stop you from… well, doing anything you want.” 

“I guess,” he sighs, and then picks another rock. 

“You’re not missing much,” you say, awkwardly lying through your teeth in an attempt to cheer him up. “With the sex thing. Really messy affair. Always a little bit awkward somehow. And—“ 

“Please,” he shudders, “stop talking.” 

You laugh a bit, and he throws the rock at your head. You duck, grinning as he flushes violently. 

  


* * *

  


“So what was it like?” Karkat asks you, peering at you from across the table as you dig at your dinner. 

You have been dead a long time. Long enough you’ve purged the bitterness and the anger out of your system. By now you just want to enjoy the afterlife and hope your message wasn’t completely lost. Though if what Karkat’s ranted at you about is true, well. That doesn’t matter anymore. Consequently, you’ve spent a good chunk of your death trying out food you never could, when you were alive. You can’t know if it tastes like the real thing does, but it tastes exactly like you imagine it would. And you have a nice imagination when it comes to things that look delicious. 

“What was what like?” You blink at him, stirring a spoon in a bowl of stew that smells mouthwateringly _good_. 

“Having sex,” he blurts out, and you’re grateful you don’t have anything in your mouth because you might have spat it out onto his face. 

“Uh,” you try, then shrug, pointedly ignoring the way your face is flaming. “Nice,” you offer, shrugging again, “I suppose.” 

“Hm,” is his pensive reply, and then he focuses on his own share of stew. 

You decide to think about what it tastes like, to him, rather than anything else. Because the alternative is very, very awkward. Granted, he seemed to have calmed down considerably, after he was done yelling at you for the grave sin of being his ancestor, when you met him the first time. Afterwards, he seemed sort of fascinated and wary about you, but not really in a bad way. You hope, at least, it wasn’t a bad way, because he’s your descendant and you never even thought you’d _get_ one, and all you really want is to hug him and make him happy, because if anyone knows how much it sucks to grow up being you, it’s him. And vice versa, you suppose. 

“Did you have, ah, someone you wanted to… you know… with?” You force yourself to ask, when the silence stretches to long and you start feeling guilty for having lived so much more than him and having experienced all the things he didn’t. 

“What?” He snaps back from his thoughts with a little jump, and then flushes. “Oh. Uh. No. Not really.” He pauses. “…there was a girl I really liked,” he admits, quickly enough you think he might actually want to have this conversation with you, and the thought makes you warm and panicky at once. “I mean. I think she kinda liked me, too. But it was weird and awkward and I just… I didn’t want her in a quadrant,” he admits, looking guilty, “kinda… wanted her in all four at once.” 

“Oh,” you say, breathing out a slow sigh, and suddenly wondering what would it be like, if your Disciple hadn’t been receptive of your advances. You wince. “I was the same.” 

That gets his attention really fast, and you smile awkwardly, shrugging again. He gives you a suspicious look, and you half expect him to ask if this is another thing you left for him, something else you fucked up for both of you. But then he doesn’t say anything and you don’t really want to say anything, so you just eat in silence and let it go. 

  


* * *

  


“…what if I wanted to have sex with you?” Karkat asks, hurriedly, as if scared of actually letting the words out. 

You can’t remember how long you’ve known him, by now, how long it took him to fall into the same mellow complacency you did. He’s never really left your bubble, gone off exploring to find someone else, and you’ve never questioned it until now. Except now you’re too busy falling off a tree to really process the implications. 

“What?” You squeak a bit, and he looks at you from the branch he’s perched on – because he’d never climbed a tree before, and you _couldn’t_ have that, because you _love_ climbing trees and he had to at least try once, of course – with a mixture of apprehension and just the barest hint of hope that makes your insides tremble a little. 

“You know what, forget it,” he snaps, automatically taking on that angry, snarly tone he had, right after he died. “It’s a fucking stupid—“ 

“I’d ask if you really knew what you were asking for,” you interrupt, with aplomb and calm you don’t really feel. “And maybe ask where this came from and make sure you understood what’s going on, because you’re not technically a child anymore but I wouldn’t want to hurt you either way.” You pause for a second, and feel your face coloring brightly. “And perhaps after all that was answered, ask how you feel about being watched, because my Beloved does like watching, at the very least.” 

Karkat squeaks. You shrug helplessly, finding the sound endearing more than anything else. 

  


* * *

  


“You said she’d be here,” Karkat says, tone almost accusing as you lie on your side and rub a hand on his shoulder. 

“She is,” you smile, amused by the way he squints at the corners of the room, trying to ignore the way he’s slowly relaxing under your touch. “But she thought it’d be best if you could forget she’s there, for now.” You wait until he’s facing you to arch an eyebrow. “That if you changed your mind, halfway, you would find it harder to say so, with her out in the open.” 

“I’m not going to change my mind,” he mutters, looking away from your face. “…is she really okay with this?” 

“The Great Huntress is very much okay with this, and would like to do more than just watch, in fact,” a purring, seductive voice comes from all corners of the block, and you chuckle a little as Karkat shivers and presses closer to you in return. Your Beloved sighs contently. “But she’s quite content just to watch for now~” 

Karkat seems to have taken that as an invitation to get on with things, because he kisses you abruptly, almost like an attack. You wrap your arms around him and coax the kiss into something far gentler, and as you’ve noticed before, it makes him squirm. It makes you a little sad to realize that while he welcomes the softer, kinder touches you’ve given him, he also tenses up and rejects them, almost afraid to have them. This time, however, you’re determined to show him it’s okay to like things that aren’t violent and hurtful. You think he wants it that way, too, but the way he shivers and tenses whenever he starts to relax makes you feel he’s scared of enjoying himself. 

And that just won’t do. 

He tries to rush you, but you try your best to ignore his wandering hands and instead concentrate on exploring his body and finding what he likes. He purrs when you dig your fingers into his spine, coaxing tense muscles to relax, and he chirps most endearingly when you thumb the modest swell of his thoracic fat sacks. He’s much like you, in that respect, which is terribly redundant, but you still notice anyway, and his are small and round, fitting easily within your palm. You can feel wetness dripping onto your thigh, when he finally starts mimicking your languid touches, petting your own chest with clumsy fingers that are nonetheless adorable. When you kiss him again, he’s far more receptive of it, returning the kiss in kind and no longer trying to turn it frantic. You give him a nice, low moan when he reaches out to kiss the hooked cartilage at the tip of your left thoracic fat sack, and then purr loudly when he realizes that’s a sensitive area and wraps his mouth around the whole thing, tongue pressing on the underside of the hook as he sucks on it. 

“Ah,” you sigh, taking a moment to enjoy his efforts, “that’s really good.” You smile down at him when he pauses for a moment, giving you a speculative look, as if gauging how much of that was truth and how much was a lie to make him feel better. Then he blushes brightly and falls on the right side of your chest, with twice the enthusiasm, as if he has something to prove. “Here,” you moan, giving ample warning as you slowly move your hands down his shoulders and around his arms, “allow me.” 

Karkat chirps in surprise, pulling away from your skin as your thumbs flick against the tinier hooks on his chest and more moisture drips onto your thigh. And then you can feel his bulge uncoiling from its sheath, groping blindly against your thigh and making anticipation coil in your groin. He writhes against you, arching his back and whining, but when he puts his hands on your wrists, you stop immediately, waiting for him to catch his breath. 

“I’m…” he mumbles, looking away and blushing hard, “I’m about to—“ 

“At your age is expected this wouldn’t take long,” you say, as kindly as you can, and admit only to yourself that you find his squeak of embarrassment actually adorable. “You won’t produce much slurry either, I don’t think. Or you wouldn’t, if you were alive. Nonetheless, it needs not mean the end of the experience, if you don’t want it to.” 

“I just…” he trails off, trembling and panting for breath, and you’d be hard pressed to invoke a more arousing image at the moment, without involving your Beloved somehow. 

“As you are,” you go on, taking pity on him and leaning in to brush an affectionate kiss to his cheek, “I’m fairly certain you would climax before being able to fully appreciate penetration.” He squeaks again, and you would be embarrassed, having this conversation at any other time, but he’s tucking himself to your side, nearly beneath you, and his bulge is lashing against your thigh and it seems inappropriate to be embarrassed about discussing what you wish to do with him. “So perhaps it would be best if I help you along differently. My body is wholly at your disposal,” you add, grinning a bit when he keens in the back of his throat, squirming and leaking a bit more noticeably. 

“Can…” Karkat swallows hard, writhing, and you want nothing more than to teach him all you know, in the ways of enjoying himself, for who he is and without resentment for what his body might be. “Can I… come inside you?” 

You’ve talked about this well enough, set out boundaries and explained things, and made Karkat walk out of a block with a flaming hot face more times than you can count. Nonetheless, it still tastes like a victory that he asks, even though you hope he’ll lose that nervousness eventually. You know he has it in him, to let go and enjoy himself and be happy, you just need to coax it out, bit by bit. You think this entire session will help, show him he can have things he wants without the world punishing him for it. 

“Certainly,” you purr for him, just because it makes him shiver and you rather like the idea. You shift about, knees at each side of his waist, as if you needed a reminder of how darn small he is, and how _young_ he was, when he died. It’s still a fleeting, but recurring ache, thinking about him dying. Perhaps one day the ache will fade. “Is this alright?” You ask, holding yourself upright and using a hand to pin your writhing, misbehaving bulge against your groin, in the process baring the thick, well lubricated lips of your nook. 

Karkat moans again, shivering and reaching out to hold your hips. Eyes going from your nook to your face, he presses in slowly, as if expecting you to change your mind. You throw your head back instead, closing your eyes and moaning encouragingly as he slowly buries himself to the hilt inside you. He’s not, by far, the largest you’ve ever had inside you. That dubious honor belongs to a rather disagreeable troll that even death hasn’t managed to really mellow out, despite you best attempts. But it’s hardly a matter of size, when Karkat chirrs and whines beneath you, and every clench of your muscles makes him cry out loudly. It’s not long before you can feel his bulge abruptly going stiff, releasing his genetic material as close to your genebladder as it can. Despite your predictions, Karkat pours a considerable amount of genetic material inside you, making you moan as you feel your body taking in as much as it can. You can hear the barest hint of a sigh, the only indication your Beloved is enjoying this as much as you are, but you doubt Karkat registered it. 

When he stops, lying back and gulping air desperately as he shudders in place, you moan a bit as you feel his bulge slowly slip out of your body, leaving the inner walls of your nook oversensitive and your own bulge twitchy. You’re not overwhelmingly close to the edge, but certainly more eager for it, than you were before Karkat filled you up so nicely. As a positive reinforcement for such outstanding performance, you lean in and give him another languid, loving kiss, followed by a trail of lips up to his ear. He turns to the side, burying his face on the soft pile of pelts you’ve prepared for this situation, though you can’t hide your satisfaction at the fact he’s turning to you, rather than away. 

“Would you like to continue, Karkat? Or has it been enough for now?” You take extra care to make the question sound as little as a challenge as possible. 

To his credit, Karkat seems to actually take a moment to think his answer, before swallowing hard. 

“I can take more,” he says, panting still as his chest heaves with each desperate breath. He corrects himself, before you can even comment on it. “I _want_ more.” 

“Alright,” you smile, leaning in to nuzzle the side of his face, which makes him grunt somewhat, but you don’t second guess him. 

Second guessing Karkat ends in disaster, you’ve learned, and the last thing you really want is for him to be in pain of any kind. So you lean in and nuzzle his face and then his neck, slowly pressing your body back against him, letting him get used to the feeling. He chirrs in the back of his throat, when your bulge squirms against his groin, but you wait a bit longer, until his breathing has slowed and deepened somewhat. Then you start the excruciatingly slow process of sliding your bulge into him, and it’s made tortuous twofold: because he is legitimately tight and small and narrow, muscles clenching instinctively around you in a way that lights your spine on fire, and because you can see every it in his face, every time his muscles give beyond what he thought possible. His hands find your sides and your breathing hitches when he digs in his claws, the further you press into him. You stop immediately, which only makes him claw your skin harder, wordless cries falling easily from his mouth. 

Tentatively, trying to focus on his pleasure lest your own overwhelms you, you continue sliding forward until your hips are flushed with his. And then you still, holding yourself above him to give him space to breathe, and just relishing the maddening tightness of his nook. When his hands reach for your chest again, you allow yourself a slow, sinuous movement inside him, and smile with satisfaction as Karkat arches his back with a loud shriek. He responds easily to your touch, though whenever you slow down out of concern over a startled gasp or a stray curse, you find yourself the recipient of a barrage of profanity that makes you blush a little. 

You arch your back and let out a surprised moan of your own, when you feel your Beloved draping herself on your back, her bulge thick and heavy, rubbing lightly against the lips of your nook. You hadn’t forgotten about her – how could you, even in the midst of pleasure like this? – but you hadn’t expected her to step in like so. Karkat looks up at you both with wide eyes, though his expression, as a whole, is hardly what one would call repulsed. Instead, he licks his lips as he watches her mouth trail up your throat, and he squeaks self-consciously when he meets her eyes. 

“Is this okay?” she purrs, the tip of her bulge pressing against your entrance insistently. “I can stop, if it bothers you.” 

You physically stop yourself from whining a reply, since the question was obviously not aimed at you. 

“No,” Karkat croaks, swallowing hard, “no, it’s… it’s okay.” 

The coils of her bulge are as familiar to you as your own, but they will never not drive you insane with lust, pressing hard against every inch of sensitive flesh around them, the tip reaching deep to tease the entrance of your genebladder. Unlike Karkat, she has no trouble reaching every fold of muscle, lashing sharply within you in a way that makes you sob. And then Karkat reaches out, after a moment of gathering courage, and pulls you down for a fierce kiss, his body clenching deliciously around you. Your Beloved purrs in satisfaction as you shriek against his mouth and release as deep inside him as you can. Karkat breaks the kiss long before you’re done, shuddering helplessly as you continue to fill his expanding genebladder with your slurry. You slump back into her arms when you’re done, boneless and still keenly aware of her bulge tracing lazy waves deep inside you. It almost hurts, as sensitized as you are from the resent climax, and you appreciate it when she gently pulls herself away from your nook and allows you to fall onto the pelts next to Karkat, who is likewise breathless and trembling. Without you in the way, however, you notice with a mildly smug smirk the wide-eyed stare he gives your Beloved, as she keeps her distance as promised. She’s gorgeous like this, aroused and mischievous and slightly looming. Karkat’s eyes keep falling on the bulge slowly twisting itself in knots between her legs. You’re about to say something – offer some comfort or encouragement, perhaps – when he does something that makes you throb to the core of your being: careful to keep his eyes on her, he very pointedly spreads his thighs, baring his nook dripping with might or might not be remnants of your slurry. His abdomen is already slightly distended, bulging a little above his groin. 

“If…” He stutters a little, looking small and vulnerable and pitiful, and given the way your Beloved moans, she feels the same. “If you want,” he goes on, swallowing hard. “It’s okay, I guess.” 

“Such a good, lovely kitten,” she grins, crossing the distance with ease and covering his body with hers. You watch with delight as she presses kisses to his face and his mouth, and he’s more willing to take them, than before. “Why don’t you tell my Beloved how it feels?” She asks, and you throb like an exposed nerve, because she’s so _good_ to you, always. She puts his hands on her chest, guiding him into strong, kneading motions that make her groan as her hips press more snuggly against his. “Perhaps that’ll be enough to coax him into joining us again.” 

“Oh fuck,” Karkat groans, slamming his head back as her bulge, considerably larger and thicker than yours, begins to coil into him. “Oh fuck, you’re so _big_.” 

“Maybe you’re just a cute niblet,” she counters, teasing, and Karkat begins to splutter but you can tell her bulge is now deeper in him because he dissolves into a wanton moan, instead. “Maybe you’re just the right size.” Karkat chokes on a sound suspiciously sob-like as her arms sneak around his shoulders and lift him up and into her, pressing his face into her chest and using gravity to help his body take her. “Such a _good_ kitten,” she repeats, and from where you’re lying on the soft bedding, you get a perfect view of the lips of his nook, reddened and swollen as they stretch tightly around the girth of her bulge. “Does it feel good?” 

Karkat makes a noise that might have been intended as words, but clearly never materialized. His frantic touching and the increasing volume of his cries is answer enough, however. Your insides churn distractingly, dutifully informing you that any moment you feel like picking up a pail, it’d be appreciated. You ignore the feeling for the sake of watching them both fall apart together and into each other. You shiver on reflex as your Beloved trembles and yowls in pleasure, arching her spine in a way that gives away her release. Soon after, Karkat convulses in her grasp, too soon for her to be done filling him up with her share of slurry, and you find the notion that he crumbled while she did so to be strangely arousing. She softens his fall, carefully placing him back on the bedding and revealing the way his gut is swollen and full with slurry. Karkat chirrs in the back of his throat, but when you try to kiss him in reassurance he flinches away somewhat, so you realize it is purely overstimulation making it hard for him to breathe. 

You opt to give him space then, and tend to your Beloved instead. Karkat left a trail of slurry all over her skin, and though you find yourself doubting your ability to receive more pleasure from this session, you’re very willing to continue giving it. Karkat makes a strangled noise, when your tongue begins scrupulously cleaning every inch of skin covered in the remnants of his slurry, but you don’t really pay attention, not with your Beloved arching her back to offer herself to your ministrations. 

You will never tire of the taste of her skin on your tongue or the small, pleased sounds she makes, when you touch her like this. Your mouth pays tribute to every curve and plane you can find, trailing after Karkat’s slurry, yes, but also deviating at every possible chance to explore and love every part of her you touch. As you drift lower and lower, one of her hands comes to your head, fingering your hair and your horns and subtly nudging you to where you were heading anyway, her groin. You mouth her bulge lovingly, licking and slurping and delicately sucking on each cartilage bump along the ridge on the top. 

“Go ahead,” your Beloved purrs, laughter in her voice as she slides her thighs further apart and your mouth trails lower, “he’ll like that.” 

You don’t quite realize it is not you she’s speaking to, until you feel Karkat’s bulge once more pressing against your nook, just as you find yourself kissing your Beloved’s. Time loses what little meaning it still has for you, after that, as your entire existence is reduced to the intoxicating, addictive taste on your tongue, and the endearingly awkward and tentative thrusts at your back. You’re okay with that. You’re more than okay with it. Even if your body protests the addendum of slurry when it was ready to release what was already in it into a pail. Even when climax claims your Beloved with her bulge partially down your throat and you can feel the rush of genetic material down your throat and settling in your belly with a strange warmth. 

Then it’s over and you’re bloated with a comforting, pleasant weight in your gut, and you’re surprised Karkat had it in himself to put so much genetic material in you to make you show, however slightly. Compared to him, however, it’s nothing. Perhaps because of his size, the swelling in his body as a result of the slurry churning inside him is obscene. He’s lying on his back, when you gather enough of your pan to think coherent thoughts again, pressing his thighs together in a way that’s painfully familiar to you. You look over and meet your Beloved’s eyes, and though there’s amusement in them, there’s also understanding. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, kneeling with your thighs wide apart enough she has no trouble pressing the pail between them. “It’s okay to let go,” you tell Karkat, and wait until he’s looking at you to teach by example. 

Bright red gushes out of your nook in short spurs, but for once you’re certain it’s not just your own. You sigh contently as your body gratefully returns to normal, exhausted and satisfied beyond what you had hoped you’d feel, after this. You purr a little as your Beloved presses a kiss to your shoulder, and she giggles a little in return. You nearly lose yourselves in each other, but Karkat makes a soft, whiny noise and you realize he’s still lying there, bloated and gorgeous and all you want is wrap yourself around him and keep him from harm. You reach out for him, and after one last nuzzle to the side of your neck, so does your Beloved. 

“What are you—“ 

“It’s a big pail,” you say, pulling the boy on his knees against your body, and he shudders violently as you pet his back. 

“It’s purrfectly alright,” your Beloved adds, sliding off your back so she can hug Karkat more fully. 

He sobs as slurry drips down his thighs into the pail in thick goops. He’s still sobbing when he’s done, but he’s reaching out for you both, when you try to kiss and pet and comfort him. When you hug him and he hugs back, you’re certain this was not a mistake. 

  


* * *

  


After a while, and you can’t be certain how long that was, only that it was enough for Karkat to become a frequent and always welcome guest to your concupiscent escapades, a strange thing happens. Long enough time has passed for you to realize that he fits perfectly between in the small spaces between you and your Beloved, like he was made from bits and pieces of both of you, explicitly for that purpose. That might be a dangerous thought to entertain, but it comes hand in hand with something you can’t deny: Karkat is happy. His happiness is different from yours, understated and almost secretive, but there all the same. You don’t care how different or how similar from yours it is, so long as it stays. 

And it is in the wake of that realization – perhaps it is more of an observation, Karkat, barefoot and relaxed, skipping stones in the lake and not actively picking a fight with anything – that the strange thing happens, and you need a moment to process the whole implications behind it, as you slowly sit on the grass. 

You’ve stopped expecting him to leave. 


End file.
